


Cas's Cabin in the Woods

by frecklesarechocolate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas is still a little hurt, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Fluff, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-04 09:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklesarechocolate/pseuds/frecklesarechocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean calls Cas and wants to spend Christmas Eve with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cas's Cabin in the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> Note: this takes place between the events of 9.06 (Heaven Can’t Wait) and 9.09 (Holy Terror).

Nora gives Cas extra shifts at the Gas 'n' Sip, and soon enough he has enough money to think about getting a more permanent place to sleep. His tissue of lies about the sleeping bag in the stockroom at the convenience store has worn so thin that he's surprised that Nora hasn't called him on it sooner.

As fall slips into winter, and he still hasn't found a place he can afford, Cas begins to look farther away from the store. Eventually, he finds a cabin about ten miles away, set back from the road. The dirt driveway provides privacy, surrounded by trees as it is, and while it's a little farther from the store than he'd like, he can still manage to get to work easily, especially once he finds and restores an old bicycle.

He finds that repairing a bicycle isn't that difficult, not really. The mechanics that make it work are fairly simple, and it's far easier than putting a soul back in its body. Cas smiles ruefully at the thought of comparing Dean to a bicycle, but as his experience with fixing things is limited - a strange word choice to be sure - that will have to suffice.

Dean calls on a regular basis now, every other day just at the end of Cas's shift. Cas isn't sure how Dean knows his schedule, but somehow Dean knows exactly when Cas is free, and that's when Cas's phone rings. Dean set his ring tone to some blues riff, Cas thinks it might be Muddy Waters. He can't decide whether he likes it or not.

Cas flings his leg over the side of his bicycle just as the phone rings. The deep voice of the singer just has the chance to start up with "[Now when I was a young boy just the age of five](http://youtu.be/w5IOou6qN1o)" when Cas fumbles the phone out of his pocket.

"Hello," he says, although he knows it's Dean. Dean's the only one who calls him.

"Hey Cas. How's it going?"

Cas frowns. "The same as it was going two days ago when you called." Cas knows he's being rude, but he's still angry at Dean for kicking him out, and no matter how often Dean calls, it's not going to make up for that fact.

Dean huffs a laugh. "Christmas is next week," he says, apropos of nothing.

"Christ wasn't born in the winter, Dean." Cas can practically hear Dean rolling his eyes. This is a conversation they've had before, but sometimes he can't help needling Dean. He slips into the habit without meaning to.

"Yeah Cas, I know. But the holiday is celebrated next week." There's a pause. "That's not why I brought it up. Want to hang out on Christmas eve? I have to be back," the caginess in Dean's voice makes the hair on the back of Cas's neck stand up. But Dean's still talking. "I have to be back for Christmas day, but I thought maybe we could do something on Christmas eve."

Cas grimaces, irritated that now he's become Dean's dirty little secret. He wishes that Dean would just stop keeping things from him, from Sam. He doesn't have the faintest idea of what it is that Dean's holding in, but it's obviously enough that Dean doesn't want Cas back at the bunker. Cas sighs, a long drawn out sound that's not lost on Dean.

"Cas?" Dean asks.

"Dean, I don't --"

"Come on Cas. Look, I'll come up during the day... I know you have the day off. We'll have dinner or something, and then I'll be out of your hair by 9 o'clock okay?"

Against his better judgement, the word yes flies out of Cas's mouth. Before he can take it back, Dean's made plans to meet Cas at the Gas 'n' Sip and head to his new digs.

"Excited to see your place, man. Can't wait to see what you've done with it."

"I wouldn't get that excited, Dean. It's just a one room cabin."

"Yeah, but it's your new place, man."

Cas shrugs and quickly ends the conversation, shoving it aside in his mind until later.

* * *

 

As with most things, that which is shoved aside comes back around too quickly. Before Cas knows it, it's Christmas Eve and Dean's called to say that he's on his way. The cabin is clean, at least, although that's more due to the fact that he doesn't have much in the way of stuff that could be left out.

Cas shuts the door behind him and heads back to the Gas 'n' Sip to meet Dean.

* * *

 

Dean’s waiting outside the Gas ‘n’ Sip when Cas arrives, leaning against the Impala. he looks good, Cas thinks, wearing a burgundy shirt under a leather jacket. When Cas pedals up, Dean pushes off the car with a grin. He claps Cas on the shoulder.

“Hey Cas, good to see you.”

Cas returns the smile - he can’t help it, Dean’s enthusiasm is catching - and dismounts the bike. “Hello, Dean.” There’s some awkwardness as they dance around whether or not to hug, until they both stop moving and stare awkwardly at each other.

“So, am I gonna get to see this place of yours, or what?” Dean asks after a minute.

Cas nods, though it feels like his head is stuck in molasses. They put Cas’s bicycle in the trunk of the Impala (say what you will about the size of cars made in the 60s and 70s, but you can practically fit an entire apartment in the trunk). They’re underway in less than five minutes.

As Cas directs Dean back towards his new home, a few snowflakes flutter onto the windshield. They don’t talk, other than Cas’s directions, and soon enough, Dean pulls to a stop in front of Cas’s cabin.

Cas tries to see the cabin as Dean would, eyeing it with a critical gaze. The wood that makes up the walls is sturdy, well cared for. Cas had checked for rot when he rented the place, and found none. When he comes home late at night, the cabin looks inviting, especially if he’s left a light burning in the window. The dark red wood exudes warmth, and the cabin’s airtight.

Cas thinks the cabin probably passes muster, despite the fact that Dean hasn’t said a word about it. He puffs a bit with pride - he may not be the most socially adept human, but there are many things that he can manage on his own.

Dean shoos Cas away from the trunk this time, saying he’ll get the bike and put it on the tiny little porch just outside the cabin’s only door.

“You go on in, Cas. I’ll be right behind you.”

Cas shrugs, but does as requested, shivering in the suddenly frigid air. Even in the brief ten minute drive from town, the temperature has dropped quite a bit. He checks on the supply of firewood next to the cabin, pleased to see that there’s enough wood for at least the rest of the week. Cas takes a peek at the sky before ducking into the cabin. The afternoon wanes, bringing with it sunset, but the grey sky above seems preternaturally bright. _Snow must be coming_ , Cas thinks. It’s a little chilly in the cabin, so Cas gets a fire started in the fireplace. He ignores the sounds of Dean coming into the cabin behind him - various rustling and thumps as Dean moves bags about and puts them on the floor. Cas isn’t sure what Dean has with him, given that Dean’s only here for a few hours.

The cabin has one room which serves multiple purposes: kitchen, dining and living slash bedroom. A breakfast bar with two stools divides the cooking area from the living area, which has a mostly comfortable fold-out couch. Cas keeps the couch open most of the time, but he’d closed it up and folded his sheets and quilt on top before leaving to meet Dean. The tiny bathroom is just big enough for a shower stall that Cas has to squeeze himself into, a commode and a half-sized sink.

In other words, it’s just right for Cas.

Dean looks around the room and nods, smiling. “This is awesome, Cas.”

Cas beams - he can’t help it - even if Dean’s just saying it to be nice, Cas thinks it’s awesome, and he likes living here.

“Thank you, Dean.”

Things become a little easier after that. They’re not quite at comfortable, but nor are they so excruciating that Cas wonders why Dean’s even here.

Cas had planned to cook, and he’d asked Dean to bring something for dessert. Dean’s homemade apple pie sits on the counter, tiny crystals of sugar glinting in the overhead lights, and it looks delicious.

Cas gets the ingredients for dinner out of the fridge and starts prepping the food. Dean hovers next to him, watching, and then he pushes his sleeves up to his elbows. He washes his hands in a businesslike manner and picks up a carrot.

“Want me to cut these up?” Dean asks. Cas nods, and they fall into a comfortable rhythm as they work. Dean stands just close enough to Cas for the hairs on his arms to stand on end. Cas is hyper aware of his friend standing so close to him, and his breathing grows more shallow the longer they work next to each other like this. Cas does his best to redirect his attention away from the fact that Dean’s close enough that Cas can feel his friend’s warmth radiating through his shirt sleeve.

It’s not working.

After an eternity of having to refocus his attention on the chicken before him, Cas finishes the prep and throws the chicken into the oven. If he slams the oven door a touch too hard, that’s his business.

They sit in the living area, Dean on the couch and Cas in the small arm chair opposite. They talk about inconsequential things - perhaps the first time they’ve ever engaged in small talk - until dinner. Gradually, the longer Dean’s there, the less awkward about the whole thing Cas feels.

Dinner’s almost - _almost_ \- comfortable, and they even share a few jokes. After dessert, their bellies full and cheeks somewhat flushed from the wine (Dean had teased Cas about it, but Cas is pretty sure that Dean was touched by the gesture), they return to the couch. Dean grabs a shopping bag he’d left by the door. He lifts a wrapped present out of the bag and hands it to Cas. The present has heft, but it doesn’t weigh too much. It’s about the size of a medium sized radio. Dean scrubs the back of his neck.

“I know we didn’t talk about gifts, but... I saw this and thought of you.”

Relief and excitement wash over Cas in equal measure, and he relaxes his shoulders for the first time that evening.

“Hold on,” Cas says, getting up. He pulls a small package out of one of the cupboards in the kitchen and hands it to Dean. he’d had a hard time wrapping it, not entirely certain how these things work at first. He’d used up nearly an entire package of wrapping paper in his desire to get it just right. Dean turns the package over in his palm a few times as if testing its weight. Eyes wide, he casts an awed look at Cas.

“Cas, you didn’t have to...”

“Neither did you,” Cas says, nodding at the present Dean gave him.

Dean huffs a laugh. “Guess not. You want to open yours first?”

Cas sits again, with the gift in his lap. He nods, but just stares at the gaily wrapped gift for a long moment.

Dean fidgets and says, “You gonna open it, or just stare at it?”

Cas raises his eyes and smiles at Dean. “This is the first time anyone’s ever given me a gift, Dean. I’d like to savor the moment.”

“Oh,” Dean says. “Yeah, okay.”

Cas runs his hand over the smooth paper, a shiny royal blue with cream colored squares zig zagging a pattern across the paper. He carefully lifts one of the side flaps, and then the other, until the box beneath is revealed. He stares at the packaging.

“It’s a camera,” Dean rushes to explain. “I thought...well, it’s one of those older ones where you have to use film, and so you have to take time to set up your shot and make sure it’s what you want, because once you take the picture, that’s it. You’re stuck with it. I thought you could take pictures of stuff as you experience things as a human...” Dean trails off, a worried expression on his face. He opens his mouth to speak again, but Cas cuts him off.

“Thank you, Dean. This is perfect.” Cas sets the camera aside carefully and hands Dean the small wrapped box that contains his gift. “It’s not very much,” Cas says, immediately changing his mind and reaching toward the box.

Dean snatches the box away from Cas and holds it by his head. “Nuh-uh, nothin’ doin’ , Cas. You got me a gift, and I want to see it.”

Cas’s hand falls into his lap, and he watches helplessly as Dean opens it. Inside the box, nestled in some tissue paper is a short length of black cord. Attached to the cord is a small piece of carved wood in an intricate design. Cas had spent a couple of weeks looking for the right wood, and then whittling it into the shape he wanted. Letters and symbols trail in and out of the bends and turns of the piece. The black cord loops through either end of the wood, creating a bracelet.

Dean examines it from every angle, admiring the handiwork. “Did you make this?”

Cas nods. “It has warding sigils for every demon and god I could think of.”

Dean looks up at Cas, awestruck. He opens and closes his mouth a few times as he gropes for the appropriate words. “Cas, that’s– this is amazing, thank you.” Dean puts the bracelet around his left wrist. He fingers it lightly before looking back at his friend. Clearing his throat, he says, “Come on, let’s set the camera up. I bought you some film too.”

The spend the next hour or so poring over the camera manual, trying to figure out what each bell and whistle does. Cas knows he’s not going to use every feature - not by a long shot - but it’s fun to think about what he might be able to do with the camera.

The fire dies down, and Dean and Cas have to squint to see the manual, so Cas gets up, intending to turn on a light. Dean stretches too, and Cas can tell that Dean’s getting ready to say goodbye so he can head back to the bunker and to Sam. Kevin will also be there, Cas thinks, and he tries unsuccessfully not to be too bitter about it.

The light doesn’t turn on when Cas flips the switch, though, and he groans. “Power’s out,” he says. Dean frowns and checks the kitchen light with similar results. That’s when he peers out of the window and curses.

“No wonder. Look, Cas,” Dean points. At some point it had started snowing and now a heavy coating of the stuff blankets the area. The Impala is still visible – just barely – and the snow falls fast and thick.

“Shit,” Dean says. Cas agrees.

“You shouldn’t drive in this, Dean.”

Dean scrubs his face, sighing heavily. At first it looks as if he’s going to argue with Cas about it, but then he says, “Yeah.” He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and grumbles. “There’s no service.”

Cas hums in agreement. “It’s spotty at best. The snow and cloud cover is so thick now...”

Dean nods. “Maybe I can get a text through. So Sam and Kevin won’t worry.”

Cas grabs some more firewood and rebuilds the fire. With the lights out, that also means the heat’s not working, and Cas knows from experience that the cabin can get cold really quickly. He watches Dean out of the corner of his eye while he does so. Cas can’t decide if being stuck in the cabin with Dean until the storm breaks is a good or a bad thing.

Trying not to dwell too much on it, Cas opens the trunk where he keeps extra blankets, and tosses them onto the couch. He’s got several thick woolen blankets, the scratchy kind, and an old, hand-made quilt with geometric shapes on the top. It’s worn at the edges, but still fairly warm, and with the blankets, Cas and his guest should be warm enough.

Cas looks up when he’s finished, and sees that Dean’s still standing by the window, looking out of the window into the forest. “Dean?” Cas asks, because he knows that Dean would probably rather be out on the road again, heading back to the bunker, and whatever Christmas he and Sam (and Kevin, his mind supplies, traitor that it is) have planned.

Dean doesn’t turn away from the window. “It’s really beautiful,” he murmurs, and that’s not at all what Cas had been expecting Dean to say. Dean’s right, though, it _is_ beautiful, and Cas stands next to Dean. They watch the snow as it falls steadily, until Cas feels Dean shiver beside him.

“It’s going to get really cold in here pretty quickly,” Cas says. “I have some long underwear and socks if you want to put them on underneath your jeans.” Dean hesitates before accepting the offer, and Cas hands off the clothes, shooing Dean into the bathroom.

Cas sets aside the wrapping from their presents, and the camera before making up the pull out sofa bed. He piles two thirds of the blankets on the couch and then creates a pallet on the floor for himself. He crawls under the blankets, and is lying down facing the wall when Dean comes out of the bathroom. Cas shifts a bit, pulling the blankets, scratchy though they might be, up to his nose.

“Cas, you don’t have to take the floor man, I can do that.”

Cas holds in an irritated sigh. “You are my guest, Dean. Besides, I’m very comfortable down here.” He pauses. “Nice and toasty.”

“Uh huh,” Dean says. He gets into the sofa bed anyway. In the dark, Cas can hear the rustling of the sheets, pillows and blankets as Dean tries to get comfortable. Cas can tell the second Dean realizes there’s a spring right in the middle of the mattress, because Dean lets out a muffled curse, and then there’s more rustling. After a moment, however, Dean settles, and the only sounds in the cabin are the wind rattling the windows and the crackle of the fire.

They lie in silence for a few minutes, and then Dean says, “Cas, you awake?” Cas grunts a bit in answer. “I’m sorry, dude.”

Cas doesn’t know what to do with that. Because he knows Dean is sorry, it’s been pouring off Dean in waves ever since Dean met him in town, and the extravagance of his Christmas gift had not been lost on Cas. On the other hand, if Dean were really, truly sorry, wouldn’t he have asked Cas to leave in the first place? Barring that, wouldn’t he at least have brought Cas back to the bunker after dealing with Ephraim? Cas considers tossing all of this out there, all his anger and resentment – because he _is_ angry and resentful, that much is certain – but opts for a noncommittal grunt instead.

There’s more rustling of sheets and blankets as Dean rolls over. “I am, Cas. I wouldn’t have...” Dean sighs. “I had a really big reason to, otherwise I would never have let you go.”

A wave of anger washes over him, more powerful than just about any other emotion he’s felt. He sits up. “Let? Let me go? You didn’t _let_ me go, Dean, you... _you kicked me out_.” The firelight plays across Dean’s face, but Cas can tell that he’s hit a nerve. Dean looks miserable, his eyes bright and his lips curled into a sort of sneer. “You don’t get to talk about _letting_ me go, Dean. That’s not what happened.” Cas catches his breath. “And you know it.” He lies back down again and rolls over so his back is toward the couch once again. Cas hears Dean mutter something, but he pulls the blankets up over his head to drown out anything Dean might have to say. Dean’s quiet, unmoving for a minute or so, and then he, too, turns over with a huff.

Cas dreams of caverns filled with ice and fires that won’t start. He dreams of being in a dentists’ chair, which is _weird_ , because he’s never even met a dentist, as far as he can tell. He dreams of Dean, yelling at him from far away, and then Dean’s shaking him awake, repeating his name.

“Cas!” Dean’s face fills Cas’s vision when he blinks open his eyes. Relief washes over Dean’s face. “You were... I think you were dreaming? And your teeth are chattering. You must be freezing.”

Cas slowly becomes aware of his surroundings, and realizes that he is shivering; thousands of tiny spasms vibrate his muscles, and he’s exhausted and nauseated. “‘M fine,” he slurs, but he doesn’t convince himself, let alone Dean.

Dean makes an irritated sound and then hauls Cas up by the bicep. The irony of the movement isn’t lost on Cas, but he’s too cold and sick from adrenaline running through his system. “You’re so damn stubborn,” Dean mutters. He dumps Cas unceremoniously on the sofa bed and then pulls the blankets and quilt over Cas. He ducks down to pick up Cas’s blankets too. He hesitates for a second, and then climbs under the covers next to Cas, draping the extra blankets over them.

Dean rolls Cas over and pulls him in towards his body, so that Cas’s back lies flush against Dean’s front. Dean wraps his arms around Cas and holds on tightly. There’s a pocket of warmth under the blankets, and Cas tries not to think about the fact that that’s Dean’s warmth, that Dean pulled himself out of his own cocoon of warmth to wake Cas up. Dean mutters behind Cas, but the blood begins rushing to his extremities, so Cas can’t hear what Dean’s actually saying.

The shivering stops after a few moments, and Cas becomes uncomfortably aware that he’s in bed with Dean, enveloped in his friend’s arms. He’s warm, though, finally, and comfortable, and Dean smells nice, like leather and something spicy. Dean stops talking to himself – maybe he was talking to Cas? Cas is too sleepy to figure it out – and Cas lets his eyes droop closed. He’s just drifting off to sleep when Dean whispers, “Cas?”

“Hm?” Cas says, too warm and comfortable to exert the energy necessary to say anything else.

“You warmer now?” Dean asks.

Cas nods slowly, like his head is encased in molasses. “‘S comfy,” Cas says.

Dean huffs in laughter, his warm breath tickling the back of Cas’s neck. “You okay if I... um,” Dean squeezes his arms a bit around Cas, and then pulls back. Dean’s movements are slow and stiff like he wants to move closer and further away at the same time.

Cas frowns. “What’re you doing?”

Dean laughs again, but this time it’s nervous laughter, Cas recognizes the pitch. “We’re... we’re cuddling man. It’s just...” Dean sighs. “You don’t cuddle your friends.”

Cas, now thoroughly awake and annoyed about it, says, “This isn’t cuddling Dean. You’re providing a necessary medical treatment.” Cas hopes that Dean will ignore the lie for what will accomplish - both of them warm and comfortable and ready to go back to sleep, hopefully until morning.

Dean snorts, but doesn’t move away any further, so Cas takes that as answer enough. He closes his eyes again, and lets himself fall back asleep, lulled by the rhythm of Dean’s breathing.

* * *

 

When Cas wakes again, a bright light shines in through the windows, the sun sparkling off of the white snow that had been dumped by the storm in the night. He’s still cocooned within Dean’s embrace, but at some point in the night, he must have rolled over, because now his chest is plastered to Dean’s front, and his nose is buried in the hollow between Dean’s collar bones. Dean’s arms are still surrounding him, and one large palm rubs slowly up and down his back.

“You’re awake?” Dean asks, his voice rough with sleep.

Cas nods. “Snow stopped?”

Cas feels Dean pick up his head and look over the back of the sofa, craning his neck to try to see out of the windows. “Yeah. Sunny out. Bet it’s cold.” Dean lowers his head to the pillow, and Cas leans back to look at his friend. At this close distance he can see the smattering of freckles on Dean’s face, freckles that Cas knows Dean’s faintly embarrassed by. Cas is distracted by the freckles on Dean’s eyelids, small spots of color that he knew existed, but only in an academic sort of way. To be confronted with them like this up close and personal is... well, Cas isn’t sure what it is, but it makes him more self-conscious about the fact that he and Dean are pressed tightly together.

“Cas,” Dean says, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips. A habit of Dean’s when he’s nervous or uncertain, Cas knows. “I’m sorry. I was a dick, and,” Dean licks his lips again. “And I should’ve told you what was going on. It’s just... Sam...” Dean closes his eyes.

Of course, Cas thinks. Why didn’t he realize it earlier? Of course it has to do with Sam, and of course Dean responded the way he did. “Dean, it’s all right. You don’t have to apologize.”

Dean keeps his eyes shut and shakes his head. “I feel like I do, Cas. I did something I’m not proud of and...”

Cas sighs. “You did it for Sam. Will Sam be all right?”

Cas feels Dean relax, the tension bleeding from his arms. “I think so, yeah. Eventually. It’s taking a long time though.” Dean’s eyes open, and he looks right at Cas, eyes wide and vulnerable, and Cas can’t help himself. He leans forward and kisses Dean, who makes a startled noise, but then kisses Cas back. Dean’s mouth is soft beneath Cas’s, and Cas tickles his tongue against Dean’s teeth, thinking back on kissing not-April and how he’d liked it when she did that... he stops thinking about not-April when he realizes that he's kissing Dean, something he's wanted to do for a long while now.

Mindful of his recent experiences, he pulls back. He smiles when Dean frowns and chases after Cas's lips, trying to recapture them with his own. Cas puts a finger on Dean's mouth, the tip resting in the top of the Cupid's bow. "Dean, I need to know this is okay."

Dean stares for a second, a long second in which Cas has no idea what his friend is going to say. Cas has half convinced himself that Dean is about to say no, it's not okay, when Dean nips at Cas's finger.

"Cas, this is very okay." Dean first kisses the tip of Cas's finger and then leans in and kisses Cas's mouth. Now that they're both expecting it, both _wanting_ it, it's even better. Dean runs his hands up Cas's back and curls his fingers in Cas's hair, and Cas moves his hands in the opposite direction. He hitches up Dean's shirt, and huffs a laugh when he remembers that Dean's wearing long johns.

Dean looks down to see what Cas is laughing about. He laughs too. "Cock blocked by long underwear," he says, his voice hushed. Cas laughs again, a kind of half hysterical snort, but he manages to dip his fingers into the waistband of Dean's jeans. He tugs at the shirt portion of the long johns until he's freed a patch of skin, and he slides his hand up, palm splayed across Dean's skin.

Their kisses are unhurried as they get to know the way they feel in each other's arms, pressed close together like this. Cas belongs here, slotted against Dean; it’s like he'd been missing a piece of the puzzle, but only had just realized when he found the piece. More importantly, Cas thinks _Dean_ belongs there, in his arms, in his bed, part of his life. Cas's eyes pop open and he tries to take in Dean's face, but he only succeeds in crossing his eyes. He shifts, rolling Dean over so he's on his back. Cas props himself up on his hands and looks down at his friend.

With flushed cheeks, and wide pupils only showing a narrow circle of bright green around the edge, Dean looks completely debauched. His lips are spit slick and bright red, with slight beard burn around his mouth from Cas’s scruff. _I did that to him_ , Cas thinks, and his heart flutters wildly. He lowers slowly until they're nose-to-nose. Dean grins up at him, and Cas returns the smile.

"Bet we look kinda goofy, smiling at each other," Dean says, his voice husky. It sends a zing down Cas's spine.

"I don't care what I look like, and you look.." Cas pauses, searching for the proper word. Dean raises an eyebrow, waiting to hear what Cas is going to say. But Cas can't think of exactly the right word, the English language inadequately equipped to explain what Cas is thinking. So he kisses Dean again, and then again and again. Dean laughs with Cas's enthusiasm, wrapping his arms around the fallen angel, and they fall into each other.

Cas has no idea how much time passes while they lie together on the couch exchanging lazy kisses, but it's not enough when they're interrupted by the buzzing of not one, but two cellphones. They break apart, breathing heavily, and Dean reaches over the side of the couch to pick his phone up off the floor. Cas reluctantly crawls out from the warm haven of the sofa bed and Dean's embrace to find his own cell. He shivers in the cool of the cabin, noting that the power is still out.

He locates his phone and sees it's Nora. He answers, and reassures her, when she asks, that he's survived through the snowstorm just fine. He mentions that he probably won't be able to dig out of his cabin in time for his shift that afternoon. Nora laughs. "It's Christmas, Steve. We're closed for today."

Cas squints, because he was certain that he'd been on the schedule for today, and that the store was going to be open. He's about to say something when Nora interjects with, "Consider it a Christmas gift, all right? Paid leave for the holiday! You work so hard, Steve, you deserve a little something for yourself."

Cas turns and looks at Dean, who's on the phone, presumably with Sam. Dean looks up and catches Cas's eye and smiles, tilting his head to indicate that Cas should return to the sofa bed. Cas murmurs some kind of agreement with Nora and ends the conversation. He slides back under the blankets next to Dean. He kisses under Dean's jaw while he waits for Dean to finish talking to Sam, thinking that he doesn't deserve to have this, this thing with Dean. But he wants it. So very much. Dean's hand cups the back of his head, and Cas's eyes fall closed.

Time enough for apologies and explanations and – _talks_ – later. It's Christmas, and Cas has one more gift to unwrap.


End file.
